


Oh

by DictionaryWrites2



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), M/M, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-03-01 05:48:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18794221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites2/pseuds/DictionaryWrites2
Summary: “Oh, Mr Fell,” Crowley murmured against Aziraphale’s thigh, nipping the soft, plump flesh as he dragged Aziraphale’s trousers farther down, “all for me? You shouldn’t have…”“You did say, my dear, that you’d like to have some more– ah, diverse playthings, I merely thought–”





	Oh

“Oh, Mr  _Fell_ ,” Crowley murmured against Aziraphale’s thigh, nipping the soft, plump flesh as he dragged Aziraphale’s trousers farther down, “all for  _me_? You shouldn’t have…”

“You did  _say_ , my dear, that you’d like to have some more– ah, diverse playthings, I merely thought–” Aziraphale sounded flustered and uncertain, and Crowley shifted forward on his knees, moving between Aziraphale’s thighs where he rested on the edge of the bed.

Aziraphale’s cunt was a  _delight_. 

They’d been discussing it, the past few days, just idly talking about the ways in which they made an effort, and Crowley had just…  _mentioned_  it. Sex was one thing, after all, and for them, the actual  _equipment_ they had was just an accessory, a piece of the outfit. That was just  _talk_ , though.

He hadn’t thought Aziraphale might follow through.

It was like the rest of him: fat and ripe for the  _squeezing_ , and with lips so pink that Crowley just had to lean in and  _lick_ , dragging a deviously dexterous tongue over the edge of him, feeling Aziraphale yelp and gasp, his thighs quivering as he fell back onto the bed and shoved them a little farther apart.

“Oh, Crowley– I do, ah, I do hope you aren’t too cruel–”

“Angel, I’ll only be as cruel as you want me to,” Crowley purred, and then he dipped his mouth, encircling Aziraphale’s pink, thickly hooded clit with his tongue even as he leaned in and closed his lips over it. He was already a little flushed, open and glistening just slightly where he opened up, and Crowley moaned around the bud of nerves as it  _twitched_  under his tongue, his hands coming up to grab at Aziraphale from each side.

A cock was one thing. He liked a good cock, did Crowley.

But there was so much you could  _do_  with a little cunt like the one Aziraphale had chosen to sport for the night. He could suck on his clit, yeah, suck on it and flick his tongue over it and hold it in his mouth, but everything  _else_ … He grabbed at Aziraphale’s outer lips, taking handfuls of plump flesh and  _tugging_  at it, rolling it between his fingers and delighting in the way Aziraphale whimpered and jolted. This is what he’d been talking about last night, of course: with a cock, everything was centralised, all the sensation in one place, but what he liked about cunts was how spread out everything was. You could shove and grab at the mound and it’d excite the nerves underneath; you could massage either side and do the same; and then, and  _then_ …

Crowley’s tongue slid forward in one smooth movement, slithering through thick wetness where it gathered at his hole, and Aziraphale’s fingers were tangled in his hair and  _pulling_. Crowley groaned, tasting Aziraphale, tasting sweetness, more like the dew on grass than like a human would taste, and he closed his mouth over the side of Aziraphale’s mound, almost threatening with his teeth and delighting in the way Aziraphale  _choked_  and ground down against his face. 

“You’re gonna get me  _messy_ , angel,” Crowley said, before grabbing hold of him by the flesh either side of his clit and  _squeezing_ , trapping his clit in between the folds of flesh and feeling the softness of the hair there - Aziraphale’s body hair was much less coarse than a human’s would be, but it was  _nice_ , it was nice–

Aziraphale  _yelped_ , and Crowley saw the wonderful jump of his pink little clit, saw its  _twitch_.

Burying his face in Aziraphale’s cunt, he sucked and made messy, wet noises, his nose rubbing against the side of Aziraphale's clit, and Aziraphale’s thighs slammed inward, his knees locking about the sides of Crowley’s head. The noises he was making were  _sloppy,_ and every time he shifted his face to mouth at Aziraphale he could feel the angel getting  _wetter_ , his hole clenching and tightening, his thighs tight around Crowley’s face and pinning him where he was.

Then again, it wasn’t as if he wanted to  _move_. 

He grabbed at the wonderful flesh of Aziraphale’s fat thighs, feeling them plump and warm and  _soft_  against his cheeks, and then he nipped at the edge of Aziraphale’s mound, enjoying the way he whimpered and jolted. 

“O- _oh_ ,” Aziraphale groaned. “It feels– A–  _Ah_ , Crowley, it feels different, it feels–”

Crowley locked his lips around Aziraphale’s clit, shoving his tongue right against him as he felt the wonderful little rock of Aziraphale’s hips, and he slid two easy fingers into the wet opening, pressing  _up_  for that spongey little disc of flesh and feeling Aziraphale  _writhe_. He was rocking down, more urgently now, his hips slowly speeding up, and he could feel the low grunts and gasps getting louder, gaining a little momentum, and he knew what it must feel like. That wonderful coil and coil of tension, in his thighs, in his gut, in the nerves around his cunt, until–

Aziraphale’s yell was strangled, and he grabbed so hard at Crowley’s hair he thought the angel might tear some of it out, even as he  _rode_  Crowley’s tongue. He was shoving his hips down against Crowley’s mouth, almost sobbing in his eagerness for more, and Crowley waited for the rocking to even out, to slow down…

And then he picked up the rocking where Aziraphale had let it slow away, sucking greedily at Aziraphale’s clit and grabbing at his mound, his other hand crooked up and rubbing against that wonderful spot. Overstimulation felt different like this too, didn’t edge to painful right away, and he could hear Aziraphale’s gasping, choked little whimpers, his  _moans_ –

“O–  _Oh_ , Crowley, aren’t you going, to–  _agh_ , aren’t you going to stop?”

“Mmm-mmm,” Crowley hummed, and Aziraphale  _convulsed_.

He took Aziraphale through another orgasm before he stopped, watching the twitches and spasms ravage his body as he fell exhausted back on the bed, weak, his eyes heavily lidded, and he grinned at him.

His chin was  _dripping_  with Aziraphale, and Aziraphale weakly reached for his hand, and said, “Oh.”

“Yeah, angel,” Crowley said, with satisfaction. “ _Oh_.”


End file.
